the story of the men in camouflage

There is no doubt I want to be a lawyer. I am going through all these no-rest years just to be one, not to mention the serious anxieties I now feel regularly whenever I'm in class.

Perhaps the reason is that a lawyer's career involves public service, if one chooses to do so. Or maybe it's because people look up to lawyers, at least I do so.

But when I was a child, I seriously wanted also to be a soldier---yes, a foot soldier battling in the field. I literally dreamed of armed confrontations in forest, and I always felt thrilled when I wake up. I got an application for PMA when I was a high school senior, but I lacked months for the age requirement. I didn't pursue it the year next.

Perhaps the reason was that a soldier's career involves public service, and it's absolutely so. Or maybe it's because people look up to soldiers, at least I did so.

And this is precisely the reason I am really saddened, no, outraged, by all the controversies the armed forces are getting into. Instead of lives saved, we're now talking of funds malversed. Instead of putting lives at stake to defend public, we're now hearing of taking own lives to evade public hearing.

While the generals' wives are traveling the world with their gold credit cards (one was stupid enough to bring cash), the foot soldiers were running in worned-out combat shoes and defective guns. You know how the story goes.

I remembered the time when I looked at men in camouflage in awe. I looked back when, as a child, I salute whenever I see them. I am still hoping this despicable story will change. It has not ended yet...I hope.

the dividing line

Being a student in a school in Mendiola, I have witnessed many rallies already, much more than I have seen when I was an undergraduate in UP. In fact, there had been so many, the rallies have lost appeal, not only to Malacanang but also to the common people. Students pass by the rallies sometimes not even with a second's pause to listen at the speech or to even just look at the crowd.

Recently, a huge gate has been constructed in the Mendiola arch, effectively dividing the schools (and the gateway to Malacanang) from the rally. Also, and more importantly, the police force no longer has to form the human barrier with their shields, effectively minimizing violence between the police and the rally crowd.

Since the Aquino administration, I noticed that the policemen are more "cool" in handling the rally. Just this week, I took the time to listen to the ever-emotional-and-ever-angry speech of the rally leader while I was drinking gulaman on the other side of the gate. There were only a few people in the rally, and there were also few policemen, both safe on their sides of the gate. And because these rallies are commonplace in Mendiola, the police were relaxed, smoking their cigars as if there's a cigar auction from the vendors, eating siomai and fishball bought from the food carts, and conversing with each other as if no rally was happening on the other side of the gate.

The students treated that day like any normal day, while the speaker encouraged the students not to go to class and join the rally. What?!? No one joined them anyway.

I witnessed the most funny thing that day: While the crowd in the rally was chanting their usual chants, one policeman was absent-mindedly chanting with them; apparently, he has memorized the lines already. =)

P.S.
I believe in social justice. I just no longer believe in the everyday rallies. And their leaning toward (armed) revolution.

"Social justice is neither communism nor despotism nor atomism nor anarchy, but the humanization of laws and the equalization of social and economic forces of the State."

where my dreams began

This is the story of a man I've never even met and the story where my dream began.

After 30 years of “living” in my father's wallet, a slightly tattered news clippings about my grandfather, Lolo Pasyo, was shown to me by my father. I only know him through little stories from my father as Lolo Pasyo died even before my father met my mother. But stories will never suffice, and there's a missing spot in me that will never be filled.

My father said that Lolo Pasyo was the silent type. My grandmother was a beautiful maiden, and I wonder how sweet or stiff their courtship was. Together, they raised all their children to be, the perfect word, respectful. My father never raised a voice to my grandmother and always comes immediately when called by her. He always acquiesce to her request and oftentimes remember her. I could only assume that this great respect came from the much respect Lolo Pasyo gave his wife.

Father told me that his father was a disciplinarian. He never tolerated any mischievous activity from his 8 sons and 4 daughters and never used influence for favors. This is not to say that the boys never did any naughty acts. They did, but did everything not to let their father know. For Lolo Pasyo, any “bad” behavior must never go unpunished.

My grandfather was a US veteran. I am sure that my grandfather deserved every penny of the pension he and his wife were supposed to be entitled to. Ingrates. After the army, he held several government positions, most of which I only knew from reading the newspaper.

Please click image to enlarge and read Lolo Pasyo's contribution to society.

His last post was a Punong Bayan, now known as Mayor, before he died of leukemia. As a child, I asked my father why they were not wealthy if Lolo Pasyo was a mayor. I already had a concept of government officials then. He told me that Lolo Pasyo was never corrupt, unlike most people. Their family barely have enough, with Lolo Pasyo sometimes giving his salary to the “needy” constituents. He was a straight man. While studying, my father and some of his other siblings had to stay at relatives' house as they could not afford to rent a house of their own while staying here in Manila. My father's aunt wanted to take him and sustain his education, but he opted to stay in the province after a year in Manila. My father even had to work abroad to earn a living. These, I think, would not have happened if Lolo Pasyo had “manipulated” government funds, which is commonplace nowadays. Lolo Pasyo has successfully imbibed in his children the value of honesty and responsibility, not one of them ever been involved in a scandalous behavior.

Knowing that I came from a line of a brave and honest man, I felt inspired to be someone like him. Only one of his sons joined politics, whereas one daughter became a DECS (now DepEd) official. My aunt already died of cancer, but the stories of colleagues of how straight she was and how she often rejected bribes warm my heart, something he learned from his father.

My father told me that he was highly respected in their community. And the respect for him translated to respect for the family's name and for the family. No ordinary man can do that. Even after 30 years since he died, I still hear stories of him from their neighbors and friends.

I formulated my dreams as a kid, and writing this now made me think that his legacy might have influenced me. He was everything I want to be: a leader, a public servant, and an honest person.

It saddens me that I can tell you about him only through my father's stories and person. But I hope that the message of his people would be enough to show you how proud I am to be this silent man's granddaughter: